


Code Red

by Kat2107



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rape Fantasy, but heed the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat2107/pseuds/Kat2107
Summary: For a Kink Meme prompt:"Gabriel really wants to be overpowered, tied up and used. (It's important to OP that this is a consensual thing that they have talked about)+Bonus for aftercare and sweetness"





	Code Red

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the list of things that could disturb a reader: 
> 
> non-graphic injury  
> mention of harm to children  
> rape fantasy and the graphic enaction thereof!

The lights in the hallways of Watchpoint Grand Mesa dim automatically at 10 pm and again at midnight.

He knows that because he has stumbled along these hallways too many times in the dead of night coming from or going to places that the nice and fine lords and ladies of Overwatch would never dirty their manicured hands with.

It’s only him and the people that sometimes wipe up his bloody footprints after him on these nights.

The half-light doesn’t register anymore except where the brightness of his phone screen burns his eyes.

_No new messages._

Gabriel Reyes pulls the beanie off his head and unbuckles his armor.

Nobody he knows the names of is dead. Three in medical, among them McCree.

Some payed lackey is doing basic debriefs before his men and women can go to bed. He went first because he fucking tells himself he fucking deserves it. Because he fucking took five rounds into his body armor to shield two kids that somehow had survived.

One of them is in medical, too.

Because he needs to be selfish to stay upright some days.

****

The lock to his quarters has barely turned before he kicks the door open and lurches inside. His head is pulsing with the remnants of violence and exhaustion. His feet want to refuse to lift.

He wonders if it’s in his brain or if the muscles actually want to give up. Muses, what else hit them that he won’t notice before waking up tomorrow, unable to move.

****

The door shuts and his armor drops, followed a step later by his belt and the weapons and his shoulders as they finally fall under the lack of physical weight, now that there is nothing to keep him up.

He had hoped that maybe…

 

It says something about his life that his brain recognizes the sound of a combat boot on concrete from behind and signals relief that it is *not metal* in the half second he could have had to brace for the impact.

He stumbles the last meter forward, falling as his knees hit the bed, gasping for breath at the screaming pain raging through his torso. Fucking ribs.

He manages a half turn, bringing one arm up to block the blow aimed for his face but after 39 hours on his feet, even Gabriel Reyes’ reflexes suffer. His assailant’s do not.

He grabs the arm at the wrist for biggest possible leverage and yanks it behind Gabe’s back, shoving him forward into the bed with a grunt and the click and hum of an electronic shackle.

Oh fuck no.

His other arm is caught under him on the bed and short of scrabbling for purchase against the soft surface, the only chance Gabriel has is to drag that motherfucker sideways by the shackles.

He does and a heavy knee lands against his lower back, pinning him to the bed while 250 lbs of asshole shove his arm upwards until his shoulder _screams_.

“You don’t wanna do this, soldier,” a voice growls, deep and sinister, vibrating in the dark of the room with the knowledge of his power.

Gabriel’s wriggles his left arm slowly, trying to get it into a position to push back. Nothing.

“Fuck you.”

Kicking back, Gabriel hits nothing but empty air, lacking the strength in this position to even dislodge the asshole.

They’re at an impasse.

The guy has to move. He can’t fully restrain Gabriel like this and… the moment his attacker lets up on the pressure on his right arm, Gabe swivels his torso to the left, freeing his arm and slams his elbow back.

He connects with something, face probably. The dull thud sounds like bones, not meat. It sounds like skin tearing but no real damage.

The other stumbles, catching Gabriel’s arm in the backward motion to stabilize himself. Gabriel tries to twist out of the hold, freeing either of his arm to get enough moment but to no avail; his torso muscles lock up and refuse to turn at all for a moment, leaving the intruder free to yank both of Gabe’s arms together in a well-practiced parallel position and into the shackles.

Gabriel catches a glimpse of pale skin and sparks of crimson.

“You’re gonna regret this, Reyes.”

“That’s what she said,” Gabriel snarls back, jerking his body forward only to be pulled back in the counter motion and onto his knees.

He slams his head back in a desperate last-ditch effort and finds himself caught in a headlock, squeezing just enough to make breathing uncomfortable, and a body almost as tall and broad as his plastered along his back.

It’s not quite panic that makes his heart gallop at a hundred miles per hour and every muscle in Gabe’s body lock. Not quite.

“Now…” The guy shifts his hips, pressing the growing bulge in his pants against Gabe’s lower back. “I want something. And you…”

A hand pulls the zipper of Gabe’s hoodie down, revealing what he wore underneath. His dogtags. Because he was an idiot, relying on the anti-ballistic fabric out of dumb sentimentality. Because he likes it, because he can ditch his armor and slink away into the night looking enough of a civilian to get away with it.

“You will be a nice boy.” The deep voice rumbles against his ear, leaving a wet smear that distinctly smells like blood, while the hand slides upwards again over Gabriel's abs to his nipples to circle them slowly, squeezing them only once, hard, when he thrashes too hard against the hold that he couldn’t break anyways because of the fucking arm cutting off his air supply until he’s seeing stars.

“What do you want?” Gabriel chokes out, trying to squirm away from the fingers and the twitching of his own cock at the treatment.

The man laughs and lets go of his chest. “Isn’t that obvious?”

He deftly opens Gabriel’s pants instead.

“Fuck you.” Gabe relaxes into the hold just to get some air and his traitorous body under control but it seems the guy has only waited for it.

He pulls back and shoves Gabe forward onto his face, his hands gone for a second that gives Gabe hope he can turn and get a good kick at the guy’s crotch but then the hands are back and jerking his arms up and up until he has to go to his knees or risk his shoulders to dislocate.

“Good boy,” his attacker praises him, holding his arms aloft with minimal effort of one hand, making Gabe bite his lips to last second choke down his pained yell.

The man doesn’t give him room, he just jerks his pants over his hips.

This time Gabe does thrash, kicking blindly backwards and to the side, connecting with too much meat for it to be in any way effective but he has to try anyways.

At least he left bruises. Cheap consolation when his pants pool below his knees, held in position by his own fucking boots to restrain him.

****

A broad hand slides up Gabe’s thigh in slow admiration, circling around scars that he earned on battlefields like today’s - like a benediction or forgiveness.

It slips between the cheeks of his ass and breaches him without warning, one finger, then two in quick succession, ripping sounds from Gabe’s throat that he will deny ever having made.

The fingers scissor slowly, dry and painful, and stretch him against the intrusion and his own fighting body in a cruel joke, preparing him roughly as if lube were not a thing.

Lube is a thing. He hears the package ripped open, the distinctive squelch of viscous liquid slathered generously over skin. Just not his own.

The hand is back on his ass, smearing some of it over his hole, pressing it unceremoniously into the opening and Gabe bites his pillow to muffle the scream when a large cock breaches him, resistance or no fucking resistance.

No resistance, because he’s trying to survive this. He forces himself to take it, his muscles to relax and accept the inevitable glide, like a knife between ribs.

It hurts.

“Good boy.” The hand rubs up his side. “So good for me. Taking it so well.”

A finger presses into one of the bullet bruises, just below his ribs. A sharp stab of pain that has him surging upwards and into the intrusion in his ass.

“Fuck you!”

****

He could do without the chuckle, or the hand that wraps around his cock as the body over him leans forward and presses him down helplessly into the duvet until only his own knees, locked in position, are holding him up and the other hand that holds his wrists and the restraints in an unmovable grip.

“Yes,” the gravely voice whispers as the hand gives Gabe’s cock a few slow jerks, expertly waking him to hardness.

“Oh yes!”

That’s the only warning Gabe gets before the guy pulls back and shoved back in in one fluid motion, over and over until the last vestiges of pain melt into heat and Gabe cries into the pillow as the man slides over his prostate, knowing full well how to get him, pushing him into the hand on his cock.

  


He’s driving into him relentlessly, leaving bruises around Gabriel’s wrists and lower arms where big hands dig into the skin until blood fills the destroyed spaces, leaving dark blue marks.

He tries to push back or away on straining, quivering thighs, fighting for breath against the tear and snot soaked pillow. It swallows his scream as he comes, jerking in the unrelenting hold to chase that last push that last…

****

A hand turns his head away from the pillow and to the side, allowing him a choking gulp of breath before it comes down to the side of head and holds him there, leaving him free to defend himself. Too broken to do so.

One push, slow and rolling, a smooth conquest, like a loving touch. Except for the way it hurts and shoots up his spine.

“Please…” Faster. End it. I can’t…

He does. He takes Gabriel with the single minded focus of a predator tearing into his prey, a few clinical pushes before he comes, curved around Gabriel’s back, holding him down with no force left but the hold he has over Gabriel’s mind.

****

“Thank you.”

Fuck. A coarse, broken whisper in the dark, but he feels a pair of strong arms curl around his chest, half holding him up where his overtired, beaten body is giving in.

“You’re welcome,” Jack whispers back and lets his partner’s body sink off his cock and onto the bed, carefully avoiding the soiled spots.

“Don’t move,” he adds and unlocks the shackles, eliciting a snort from the mess that is the Blackwatch Commander. As if he could.

So he doesn’t. Just floats gently on the aches and a few outright pains. It’s his ribs, he thinks. Possibly broken. He forgot.

Five rounds.

“I think I broke my ribs,” he murmurs to the gentle hands that fed him water and now wipe the sweat off his back and the mess from his ass with a warm washcloth. As gentle as humanly possible.

“Did I…?” Fuck, now he worries again.

“Not you. Mission.”

“Gabriel!” Oh yeah, he shouldn’t have said that, he’s just too warm and his body too languid to care.

“You can’t… you can’t call me in for…” Gabriel opens an eye to watch the indignant Morrison handwave and smiles. “...this when you are injured. Hell Gabriel, what if I made it worse.”

“Made it better, Jackie. Shut up. ‘M fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

Gabriel smiles as those gentle hands turn him onto his back and a soft, fluffy towel and clean him up, prodding at some really nasty bruises, bullet shaped, on the way.

“Didn’t think you’d come. New York’s important.”

“So are you.”

“Could’ve told me.”

“And warn you?”

Jack uses a second cloth to wipe Gabriels hands, in between each finger, and his face, cleaning the tear tracks and the smile on his lips.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he repeats and feels the cloth pause on his cheek.

“You sent me a Code Red, Gabe. I will always come.”

“Yeah, you did.” The little laugh that wrenches from his chest hurts like a bitch but Jack’s responding laugh is worth it.

“I love you,” Jack says and plops down a biotic emitter, disturbing the beautiful darkness behind Gabriel’s eyelids that beckons him to sleep.

That’s Jack. Always the motherhen.

A blanket is pulled over him, his head lifted to turn the pillow around, a body shifted to pull him against a solid wall of muscle.

“Wanna talk about it?” A soft voice asks and Gabe gives it an honest thought before he shakes his head.

“Tomorrow.”

“Alright, baby, sleep. I’m here.”

Gabe stares into the golden abyss behind his eyelids. Gold is safe. Is Jack. Warm. Home.

Ok.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the first seriously no plot porn I ever wrote.  
> For a given amount of "no plot"
> 
> Tell me you're proud ;)  
> No seriously, I am as fueled by validation as any writer. So please, if you like it, drop me a line.


End file.
